Unlikely Love
by IAmIt
Summary: Matthew is a kind, gentle young man that has been living in New York for the past two years, and though he is a likeable character, he has no friends whatsoever. He is secretive and does not allow anyone to get close to him; what is it that he's hiding? What is this dark burden he is bearing? Alfred makes it his mission to find out.
1. Unpleasant Encounters

_**Author's Notes: **_**Alright, well, seeing as I'm working on approximately a million other fics at the moment, I cannot even begin to comprehend why I am starting another one. Guess I just can't seem to stop writing, for I love it so! Hoping this will be worthwhile.  
*Crosses Fingers***

**Title: **_**Unlikely Love**__**  
**___**Genre: **_**Romance, Drama, (slight) Horror, Non-con/Rape, P.T.S.D, Alternate Universe, etc.**__**  
**_** Pairing: **_**Alfred/Matthew (America/Canada)  
**_** Rating: **_**T (may change to an M in later chapters)**_**  
**** Warnings: **_**Strong language, homosexual coupling and W.I.P**_

**Disclaimer: **_**I only wish I owned Hetalia, Matthew, and Alfred =.=**_

**Now, go fudging read!  
Pretty please!**

Matthew plopped down onto the chipped, wooden bench cramped up between stacks of unused boxes and crates; an old worn-out science fiction novel clutched against his chest and a cup of Starbucks coffee in his left hand. He sighed contentedly as he took a sip from his cooled drink before setting it beside him and fishing through the pages of his book until he found the dog-eared page, settling in as comfortably as he could manage in his rough seat and began reading, a gentle smile tugging at his pink lips.

The events he had been plagued with since early this morning had been more than frustrating and somewhat exhausting. After Matthew had slept through his alarm clock he had rushed about his small apartment in a frenzied haste to get ready and get to work—it was depressingly obvious that he would not be on time when he had barely even been half dressed by 9 o'clock. His shift had started an hour before then! With a bit of luck Matthew had managed to catch the last bus scheduled to stop in Times Square, though the heavy flow of morning traffic was more time consuming that his frazzled mind could handle; he ended up running the rest of the way to work, making a quick pit stop at Starbucks to grab himself a cup of coffee as he was still feeling immensely tired and groggy. Thankfully the lines hadn't been too bad. By the time Matthew arrived at work he was an hour and thirty minutes late, which earned him a menacing glare that could melt even the most resistant of metals from his large, overly crabby (and somewhat abusive) boss, Carlos.

After the mountain-of-a-man had chewed him out for a good ten minutes, Matthew had gotten straight to work, running to the back of the kitchen to grab his small black apron before heading to the front counter to serve the latest arrivals. He found himself counting the fact that he worked at McDonalds as another stroke of luck, since it wasn't quite as busy as other fast food restaurants or coffee shops in this bustling area of New York City at this time (popularity usually grew around lunch time and dinner), and allowed him to relax a little and compose his thoughts as his nerves were still settling from the hectic morning. He currently found himself in a state of calming bliss as he spent his afternoon break out in the alleyway behind McDonalds, reading one of his favorite books and sipping at a delicious cup of coffee (even though it was quite cold by now).

"Nothing like a good cup of coffee to wake oneself up properly after a crazy morning," Matthew said to himself. _Though nothing beats Tim Horton__'__s coffee,_ he thoughtful wistfully.

Matthew frowned as a wave of homesickness washed over him. His skin tingled, yearning to feel the cool nips of Canada's winters once again, to taste the minty freshness of a Tim Horton's candy-cane hot chocolate, to slip out in the middle of the night to go ice skating at the miniature hockey rink down at the park. Life seemed so much simpler back then, in his tiny little hometown sitting by the fire in his family's cozy, familiar house, his mother rocking back in forth in the old rocking chair and keeping him company while they sat and talked about nothing and everything, for hours on end. For Matthew, that had been his perfect fairy-tale life; happy, safe, and warm—despite the usual cold outside, but even that was part of its perfection.

Then... _real life_ had to come along and take all of that away from him.

Matthew felt the hot burn of tears behind his azure eyes, prickling at his vision and causing it to swim. He reached up and scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, sniffling and doing his best to will the tears to go away. It definitely wouldn't be good if he went back to work with eyes that resembled an angry blowfish.

"Williams!" Matthew jumped and whipped his head around to see Carlos standing in the threshold of the rear exit with his arms crossed over his expanded belly, his expression one of irritation and impatience. "Break times over, so get your lazy ass back to work," he barked.

"Yes sir," said Matthew, biting back the urge to flip the older man off. He gulped down the last of his coffee before throwing the empty cup into the trash bin and slipping past Carlos through the door, holding his breath the whole time to keep from gagging as the stench of sweat and overused cologne assaulted his senses. He stopped by his assigned locker and set his book on the top shelf, quickly shuffling back to the front counter when Carlos appeared at the end of the hall and gave him (yet another) pointed glare.

_I swear, that guy has a thorn bush up his butt, _Matthew thought.

**xXx**

The rest of the day had passed by quickly and—to Matthew's great relief—uneventfully. The evening rush had come and gone, the day was coming to a final close and the blonde haired man couldn't wait to go home to his lonesome little apartment, curl up on the couch with Kumajiro (his little white kitten) and watch movies until he fell asleep. He might have missed his old life, but for now this was as good as it could get, and Matthew was perfectly content with that.

"See you tomorrow," Matthew called to a few of his colleagues working at the front counter as he left through the glass double doors. The disinterested chorus of mumbled 'goodbyes' fell on deaf ears as the doors closed behind him.

Outside all the lights on the buildings surrounding Time Square had been lit, cascading the world around Matthew in a whirlwind of bright neon colors as he made his way towards the bus station. Matthew had been living in New York for at least two years now, but the lights of the city never ceased to amaze him; though he could do without the noise sometimes. If only he could have the peace and quiet of his hometown, but still keep the dazzling lights of city. _Oh well, you can never have the best of both worlds._

As Matthew continued his trek down the bustling streets, eyes reflecting the glowing lights of the advertisement billboards and shop signs surrounding him, he didn't notice as another man—head bowed low and speaking rapidly into his cell phone— came striding towards him. Matthew lowered his eyes at the last possible moment, but it was too late and the two were sending tumbling to the ground as they collided with a dull _**'thunk'.**_ On reflex both of Matthew's hands shot out behind him, causing him to land roughly on his hands before his rump thudded onto the gravely concrete sidewalk as well. His counterpart, however, had not been so lucky and had gone flailing backwards, his shoulder skidding across the pavement before he had been able to steady himself with his free hand, the other still clutched tightly around the phone. Matthew quickly got to his feet and scuttled over to where the man had fallen, offering his hand.

"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Matthew asked, eyes scanning the man's face and hands for any injuries. He couldn't help but note how attractive he was; his eyes a light baby blue that twinkled in the light just as Matthew's did. Broad shoulders and a lean but toned figure (from what he could see by observing the man's form fitting attire) and pale skin that looked soft to the touch. His hair was a golden brown and he wore rectangular glasses that made him look rather intelligent and sexy—rather than nerdy and bug-eyed.

The man looked at Matthew's outstretched hand, eyeing it disgustedly and shoving it away. He stood up on his own, dusting himself off and snapping his phone shut without uttering even the slightest of warnings to whomever was on the other end of the line. Matthew felt like there was a hole being burned into the front of his skull as the other blonde glared menacingly at him.

"You should watch where you're going, urchin," he growled. Matthew took a step back before he, too, felt the bubbling heat of anger rise in his gut.

"Excuse me?" He snapped. "It was an accident! It's not like a meant to bump into you, so you don't have to be so _rude._"

The man's eyes grew wide for a second, before going dark once again. "Maybe if you hadn't been all dough eyed and dazed, you would've been looking where you were _supposed_ to be in a busy place like this and none of this would have happened!"

"It. Was. An. _Accident._" The insatiable urge to smack this guy upside the head was quickly making its way to the forefront of the Canadian man's mind. "Why can't you just accept my apology and get over it!"

"The apology of a complete stranger—one who works at _McDonalds_ no less—means nothing to me. Now if you'll _excuse me_," he said, his tone like acid rain, "I have somewhere important to be. Unlike some of us here." The man turned on his heel and stalked off past Matthew without a second glance, disappearing into the hoards of people.

Matthew stood in the middle of the sidewalk, wide eyed and (unsurprisingly) quite pissed off, to say the least, as he stared off in the direction the man had left in. Half of Matthew wanted to go after him and give that arrogant prick a piece of his mind, while the other half (the one which had been nagging at him since the day had begun) wanted nothing more than to simply go home and forget about the entire day. It was the latter that he chose in the end; he was too tired to waste anymore energy on some self righteous stranger, whom he would probably never have to see again.

**xXx**

Turning the old, rusted key in the equally rusty lock Matthew gave the door to his single roomed apartment a firm shove with his side before the door gave way and allowed him to enter his home for the past two years. He inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of Febreze and cat fur. Just as that thought crossed his mind a little bundle of white fluff came bounding up to him, climbing up his pant leg until Matthew was cuddling the little kitten to his chest, cooing softly to it and peppering its fuzzy forehead with kisses.

"Hello Kumajiro! Did you miss Daddy? 'Cause Daddy missed you, little man," He whispered, stroking the kitten's nose. Kumajiro purred loudly, butting further into his 'Daddy's' gentle touch and licking at his fingertips. "That's my boy. Now, let's go get you some food."

Matthew headed into the kitchen, setting Kumajiro down on the counter and began digging around through one of the cupboards in search of his food. He gave a triumphant chuckle as he found the tin of cat mix and peeled off the top, grabbing a fork to scoop out the contents onto a tiny, chipped plate and placing it on the floor next to the kitten's water bowl. The little ball of white fur hopped off the counter and padded over to his little dining corner, going straight for the dish of cat food and lapping at the fishy pile of gunk.

The Canadian man knelt down and scratched the kitten's back once more before he found a little snack for himself and headed back into the main room where his scruffy old couch and ancestral TV was located in the center of the room. He beat one of the pillows into shape and pulled the plane white blanket over his legs as he snuggled in, flipping on the TV and scrolling down until he finally settled on an old children's cartoon he used to watch when he was just a boy himself. A few minutes later Kumajiro came trotting into the room, happy and full, as he jumped up onto the sofa and cuddled up in the nook of Matthew's neck and shoulder.

"Sweet dreams little one," the blonde whispered, pecking the kitten's silky ear. He yawned tiredly, setting his empty glass on the petit coffee table and drifted off to sleep as well, unaware of the tall figure hidden in shadows atop the roof just across the street from his apartment complex, peering at his sleeping form through the open window.

**xXx**

_**End Notes:**_** And there you have it. Chapter Uno! xD****  
**** So, do you have any guesses as to whom the dark figure might be? Go on, I doubt you'll figure it out! Muwahahaha! Now leave some love or some critique (or both) and point out any mistakes you might have noticed, please and thank you ^-^  
Remember, bitching and bashing are prohibited!  
Merci beaucoup!**

**I shall proofread/beta this the next time I am able to. Or one of my friends will, whatever!**

_**Maple Hockey and Pancakes,**_

_**MiseryRebel**_

_**xoxoxox**_


	2. Opportunities

**Author's Note: **_**Hallo! I am back, and I am here to bring you chapter deux for this fic! Yay x)  
So, you better enjoy it and leave some goodies at the end... pwease? 8(  
BTW, for anyone who didn't know who 'Carlos' was for some reason, he is Cuba. Whom I am not a huge fan of for hitting Canada so I have turned him into a grade A asshole and will exact my revenge upon him in later chapters *Evil Grin*  
So, I apologize to any Cuba fans!  
Anyway, here we go! Shoo, read!**_

**Disclaimer: **_**Ahaha, I don't own Hetalia... (dammit . )**_

**xXx**

Matthew shivered as a gust of wind blew in through the open window, causing him to shudder awake with a sharp intake of breath. His brilliant blue eyes fluttered open as the warm rays of sun bathed his skin in the golden glow of morning light, each one of his senses slowly coming back to life, the numbness that came with sleep quickly slipping away. He stretched languidly across his couch, the sudden movement startling Kumajiro from his slumber and he mewed in protest.

"Good morning little man," Matthew yawned, reaching down to ease his furry friend by stroking the pad of his finger over the kitten's nose. Kumajiro purred softly and nuzzled into the touch before rolling onto his back and stretching as well. Matthew giggled and tickled his fluffy belly playfully before gently lifting the feline from his chest and setting him on the back of the couch as he made to get up, only to have the kitten leap back onto his shoulder.

"Silly," he chuckled.

The blonde haired Canadian padded into the kitchen, Kumajiro hopping off of his shoulder and onto the counter beside the fridge as Matthew bent down to peer inside and see if he could find anything decent to eat. He settled on some vanilla yogurt, also grabbing a croissant on his way over to the kitchen table, nibbling off the flaky bread at one of the tips. While Kumajiro curled up at his feet Matthew stared off into space, occasionally glancing over at the digital clock on the microwave; he wasn't due at work until 10 o'clock, which he was immensely grateful for since this meant he did not have to rush (for once).

Though Matthew was as content as he could possibly be with the way his life was going, he couldn't help but wish for more. He was happy with his little apartment and he beloved kitten, but career wise... well, he definitely did _not_ want to be working at McDonalds for the rest of his life; who would? In fact, Matthew had been set on becoming a journalist once things had calmed down slightly from his hectic transition from Canada to the U.S. Unfortunately, though, that had never seemed to work out. He had applied to a million different publishing houses and not one of them had shown even the slightest amount of interest in his work! It wasn't because he was a horrible writer, not at all; on the contrary he was quite good. Yet, for some reason he had never turned out to be _exactly_ what the job requirements were looking for.

Matthew let out a long sigh, shaking his head as he popped the last bit of croissant into his mouth and finished off his bowl of yogurt. He peeked over at the clock and decided it'd be best to start getting ready for work now if he wanted to be out the door before 10 am. Grabbing his dishes and scooping Kumajiro up into his arm he made his way back to the kitchen to dump his bowl in the sink before making his way down the tiny hallway of his apartment and into his bedroom where he set the kitten down onto his lame excuse for a bed (it was a ratty old futon). He grabbed his work attire from the closet at the far end of the room and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.

By the time Matthew finished washing up and getting dressed it was 9:30 am. If he left now he'd be able to catch the second bus into Times Square and still not have to worry about rushing too much.  
Heading back into his room Matthew tossed his dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, gave Kumajiro a peck on the head where he lay curled up on the futon, made his way out the door and down to the bus stop.

**xXx**

Matthew arrived at work just on time, but of course the asshole, boss man known as Carlos harped on him anyway, for no particularly good reason, but everyone knew the man just did it for kicks anyway. After enduring what felt like a good twenty minutes listening to Carlos bitch him out for this and that Matthew made a beeline for the kitchen and got straight to work managing the counter, before switching off and heading into the back to help out on the grill with perhaps one of his closest colleagues there, Wang Yao; an exchange student from China who had come to New York in order to study at a Culinary University.

"Hello Yao," Matthew greeted as he sidled up to the grill next to him.

"Hi Matthew, how has it been?" Wang Yao asked with a heavy accent.

"Busy, very busy, and boring," Matthew added with a chuckle.

"Boring? How so?"

Matthew shrugged. "You know, working at McDonalds everyday isn't exactly at the top of my list of fun things to do; in fact it's not really on any of my lists. I just wish I could be doing something I want to do."

"Oh. Well, why don't you?" the Chinese man asked.

"I've tried, but no one wants to hire me. It's either because my material isn't what they're looking for, it's not good enough for them, or they just don't have anything that I could actually do. It's so frustrating!" The blonde huffed.

"What is it you are trying to do?"

"Journalism. I love to write."

"Ah," Wang Yao hummed thoughtfully. Suddenly his eyebrows shot up as if he had just thought of the most brilliant idea imaginable. "Ah! Why don't you try The New York Times? I have a friend that works there and he is looking for an assistant, I'm sure he would be interested in hiring you."

"Hmm... well, that's not a bad idea." Matthew turned and smiled at Wang Yao. "Thank you!"

"You're very welcome," he replied happily.

Why hadn't he thought of that before? It was the most obvious choice, how could he have completely skipped The New York Times? Matthew almost felt like banging his head against the wall, but was far too excited about being presented with an opportunity like this and instead tossed all negative thoughts aside. For the rest of the day he plowed through work with a cheek splitting grin on his face.

Once his shift was over and he was free to go home, Matthew got the name and number of Wang Yao's friend so that he might call him later on that night or sometime tomorrow in order to set up a short job interview with the man. Matthew felt like a giddy little school girl, but could not care less as his excitement was bursting out of him from all corners. Perhaps he was overreacting; maybe he was getting his hopes up, after all, just because the man in search of an assistant happened to be Wang Yao's friend did not guarantee him the job. However, this was the first glimmer of chance Matthew had come across in a long, long time, and he was very grateful for it. He intended to take it with both hands and hang on to it for all he was worth until he was no longer able to.

Matthew hadn't felt this hopeful in so many years; the feeling had almost become completely foreign to the young Canadian. All throughout high school he had thought about falling into a career that revolved around writing or art in one way or another, and come senior year he had formed a true passion for journalism; his teacher had always told him he had a real knack for finding good stories and making them even more exciting than they should probably be. His mother had been so proud of him when he had been accepted into a writing program at a top notch college in Vancouver. But then... everything had come crumbling down around him and his world had been shredded to pieces.

_**Beep!**_

Matthew jumped in surprise when the high pitched honking of a bus awoke him from his thoughts. He looked up to see an impatient and slightly irritated bus driver staring at him, waiting for him to get onto the vehicle. He smiled apologetically and climbed the steps, tossing some change in for the driver and took the first empty seat he could find as the bus pulled away from the side walk and weaved its way out into the stream of traffic. The ride home seemed to pass by quicker than usual; another small event for Matthew to add on his list of things to smile about. When the young Canadian arrived back at home he swiftly bolted the door shut before heading into the kitchen to feed Kumajiro; once the kitten was happily lapping away at his wet cat food Matthew grabbed the phone from its cradle and dialed the number Wang Yao had so kindly written down for him.

The phone rang thrice before a low voice, heavy with a Japanese accent, greeted him from the other end of the line. "Hello?"

"Uhm, hi. My name is Matthew Williams and a friend of mine told me you were looking for an assistant," said Matthew, stumbling slightly.

"May I ask who referenced me to you?"

"Wang Yao. I work with him at McDonalds. I've been looking for a job working as a journalist, but I haven't been having much luck, so he told me that I might have a shot at finding work with you." The opposite end of the line was silent for a few moments, said for the sound of papers rustling against a desk top. The man mumbled to himself as he seemed to be leafing through pages in a book, before he hummed a small sound of victory.

"Would it be possible for you to come into the New York Times publishing house tomorrow afternoon at 1:30 pm?" he asked.

"Umm." Matthew glanced over at the small calendar hanging from the refrigerator, running his finger along all the dates until he came to the twenty-fourth of July. It appeared that tomorrow he had no previous engagements and he was free from work. "Yes. Yes, that's perfect!"

"Alright. I look forward to meeting you; face to face," said his counterpart.

"Yes, thank you! And I look forward to meeting you, too." Matthew could almost feel himself vibrating with happiness and gratitude.

"Goodbye."

"Bye." Matthew hung up the phone and gently set it back inside its cradle. He stood there, staring down at the electronic device with a cheek-splitting grin stretching his features. It was a little creepy. When the blonde Canadian could no longer contain he burst into a fit of triumphant squeals and joyous laughter, dancing around his apartment while pumping his fists in the air proudly.  
Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe things would not work out and he would be unable to get the job; but who cared? Matthew had been offered this wonderful opportunity and he was going to milk it for all that it was worth! He was going to march right into that publishing house tomorrow and do his absolute best to convince his maybe-employer that he deserved this chance.

**xXx**

Later that evening, while Matthew was sitting on his sofa watching an old episode from the Oprah Winfrey Show with Kumajiro balled up and fast asleep in his lap, a soft knock sounded at the door to his apartment. Matthew glanced up from the television screen and stared apprehensively at the door, unsure of whether or not he should open it. He knew he was probably being paranoid; his mind had a habit of playing tricks on him whenever the most common of things happened, occasionally convincing him that it was something more—something bad. He had gotten much better at pushing these irrational fears aside over time, but that did not help the fear regress in the slightest.

Taking a deep breath and lifting the small white bundle of fur from his lap, Matthew stood from his seat on the sofa, cautiously padding over to the front door. Leaning forward ever so slowly, Matthew peeked through the tiny glass hole in the door that allowed him to peer out into the hallway. A long stream of air left his lips and his visibly relaxed upon realizing who was at his door. He smiled and quickly released all the locks before swinging the door open, motioning for his visitor to step inside.

"Hey Vash!" Matthew greeted cheerfully.

"Hello Matthew." Vash reached forward, wrapping a friendly arm around Matthew's shoulders and pulling him close into a warm embrace. "How have you been? I'm sorry I haven't been around much, but there were some issues that needed to be taken care of. Some idiot was going around and setting bombs up in public areas; he did a sloppy job of it, too. Sick fuck.."

"Oh God! Are you okay?" Matthew asked, his eyes quickly scanning his friend's body, searching for any sign of injuries.

Vash chuckled. "I'm fine, Matty. Nothing happened."

"Good," said Matthew, glaring up into his friend's brilliant green eyes. The Canadian was unable to hold up his rough facial expression for long as his features quickly smoothed out into a gentle smile, one full of love and affection, as he reached up and gently stroked Vash's cheek. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Vash put on a look of mock thoughtfulness. "Hmmm... drown in life's sorrows and wish for a friend as cool as me?" The two giggled as Matthew smacked the second blonde haired man playfully in the shoulder before pulling him into another hug.

"Dumbass."

**xXx**

**End Notes: **_**Voila! **__**Chapitre deux! I shall proofread whenever I can (or just force a friend to beta it for me ;) ), but until then let me know if you find any mistakes. For those of you who are questioning Swizterland's relationship with Canada in any way, you shall learn more in later chapters. Buwahahaha! ;D  
I hope you enjoyed, now leave some fudging love or I shall track you down and kill you with your keyboard! *Snuggles***_

_**Frosty winters and ice cream cones,**_

_**MiseryRebel**_

_**xoxoxox**_


	3. Meetings and Second Encounters

**Author's Notes: **_**Yo-shi! So here is chapter 3 my dearest readers. I sincerely apologize for the extended wait. But I still think you should go read it! Now! I command you! Scroll forth and read! Then maybe I'll shut up : )**_

**Disclaimer: **_**Do you think I own Hetalia? If so, than guess again.**_

**xXx**

Vash had stayed for dinner the previous evening, listening intently as Matthew rambled on and on about the small but wonderful events that had happened throughout his day. The young Canadian reminded Vash of a giddy school girl who had just received an invitation to one of the 'hottest' parties with her dream boy. Matthew had been especially ecstatic while revising the short phone conversation he had had with Wang Yao's friend earlier that evening; by the excitement in his voice and the look of sheer happiness on his face almost made it seem like he had just been told that he was the winner of a million dollars. Vash was happy for Matthew, for God knew just how much the kid deserved this kind of bliss, with all that he had been through in such a short amount of time and what he was still forced to endure to this very day.

After the two had finished dinner Vash helped clean up the table and wash the dishes before bidding Matthew goodnight and heading out to his own apartment room at the end of the hall. Matthew finished tidying a few things up in the kitchen, then made sure to check all the locks on the doors and windows and scuttled up to his room with Kumajiro hot on his heels. He quickly changed out of his casual attire, slipping into a pair of plaid pajama pants and an old white tank tan top. The blue-eyed man climbed into bed while snatching his novel up off of the bedside table; Kumajiro was quick to hop up on the bed as well and curl up into a ball on Matthew's stomach. All was peaceful, all was calm, and after about an hour or so of reading the blonde haired man set his book back on top of the nightstand and snuggled up under the covers, reaching up momentarily to switch off the bedside lamp. The room was plunged into darkness, said for the strip of light filtering through the gap in the curtains and illuminating a small portion of the bedroom.

"Goodnight Kumi," Matthew whispered as he gently rubbed the soft white fur behind the kitten's ears. Kumajiro purred softly and gave Matthew's knuckles a few loving licks before burying himself back up into a ball, Matthew's gentle snoring lulling him to sleep.

**xXx**

The next morning the alarm clock did not go off and Matthew was content to sleep in... That is until he and Kumajiro became far too antsy and could not longer lay still. They both gave a long, bone popping stretch before hopping out of bed and padding into the bathroom. Matthew stripped himself of his clothes while he waited for the water to heat up, examining his pasty skin and the rough whiskers of his five o'clock shadow. He tested the water's temperature with his wrist before switching the showerhead on and slipping in, raking the curtains closed behind him. The firm spray of warm water soaking through his hair and washing over his body felt like a burst of Heaven to Matthew this early in the morning, and he let out a soft moan of contentment as he allowed the steamy air to soak into his skin and open his pores. Reaching out Matthew groped for his shampoo bottle, grasping it and quickly squirting a generous amount into the palm of his hand before scrubbing over his scalp, reveling in the sensation of soapy suds piling up atop his head. Leaning back Matthew rinsed out his hair, scrubbing every last bit of foamy suds from his head before grabbing a bar of soap and washing off the rest of his body.

A quick rinse later Matthew stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he reached for his shaving cream and razor next to his toothbrush. Once his face was clean and smooth again Matthew swiftly brushed his teeth and put on some deodorant before heading out of the washroom to get dressed for the day. It was only 10:30 and Matthew was not due to meet with the journalist until 1:30. The Canadian took his sweet time picking out a casual (and comfortable- comfort is very important) but appeasing outfit to wear to the job interview. He was almost shedding his own skin from the overbearing nervousness that coursed through him. Matthew was most definitely a confident writer (though still humble), yet he still could not help but run through all the possibly negative outcomes in his head; after all, he was a complete worry wart and often had a habit of screwing things up.

Matthew shook his head. "None of that," he told himself. "Think positive and do your best. You can do this Matt!"

Beneath his feet Kumajiro mewed in agreement as he rubbed his sides up against Matthew's shins, purring loudly. Matthew smiled and scooped up the noisy ball of fluff and headed out into the kitchen to fix them both a bit of breakfast; a plate of tuna for Kumajiro and a bowl of Corn Flakes for himself suited the two just fine. Matthew patted his kitten on the back before sauntering into the living room and plopping down onto the couch (careful not to spill his cereal) while flipping on the television set.

An hour or so had passed and Matthew was growing anxious. He had become bored while watching TV and refused to eat away his worry by plowing through the contents of his kitchen- so he had resorted to biting furiously at his nails as he bounced his leg nervously while sitting in his room. However, it was not long before the shrill cry of the telephone pulled the blonde man from the jumpity confines of his own mind. With a panicked hop and skip he was out the room and half way down the hall by the second ring- he picked up the phone and held it to his ear while muttering a breathless, "Hello?"

"Hello," said a light, female voice. "May I please speak with a Mr. Matthew Williams?"

"Speaking," he replied. "Who, may I ask, is calling?"

"My name is Alyssa Berry and I am calling on behalf of my employer, Honda Kiku, whom you recently scheduled an appointment with to discuss possible employment. I must inform you that your appointment has been changed from 1:30 pm this afternoon to 11:45 pm as Mr. Honda must attend a very important business meeting today after lunch. Mr. Honda apologizes for the sudden change in plans and sincerely hopes you are still able to attend the interview. Have a good day."

Before young Matthew had a chance to reply the woman had hung up and the line went dead. He stared ahead blankly for a few moments, before finally hanging up as well.

Matthew glanced at the clock hanging above the kitchen doorway and gasped- if he did not leave this very moment he would no doubt be too late to get to the interview on time. There was no way, be it Hell or high waters, he was going to miss this chance. One too many times had his dream slipped through the cracks of his fingers, and Matthew was absolutely determined not to let it happen again.

So, without another second to spare Matthew swiftly gathered up his resume, wallet, and house keys before dashing out the door of his apartment and rushing down two flights of stairs to burst out into the streets of New York. Matthew was certain he would be able to catch the bus within the next five minutes- if he made sure to run like Hell, that is. And so, that is exactly what the blonde Canadian did, just managing to skid to a halt in front of the bus doors as the final passenger was boarding.

**xXx**

To say Matthew was incredibly intimidated by just _standing_ outside of the enormous New York Times Publishing House would be the understatement of the century- Matthew was almost shitting his pants, he was so nervous! Who knew a building could be so frightening? Though the fact that his maybe-future-employer was inside said building could be what was adding to the fright factor.

Matthew inhaled shakily as he stared upward, counting the windows as he went. He shook his head to clear his mind of any doubts or hesitations and strode forward, toward the front doors and marched inside. The interior was not quite as intimidating as the outside was- however the closer Matthew got to the receptionist the more the butterflies in his belly began to rile themselves up again. The blonde felt as if he might throw up, but put every last fiber of his being into holding the bile down as he approached the front desk.

The receptionist was a plump, red haired woman wearing thick-rimmed 80's glasses, along with a pound or two of unflattering makeup; she was quite frightening, to say the least. When she heard Matthew approaching she looked up with what appeared to be a disinterested scowl upon her face, and an irritated glare in her dull gray eyes.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice nasally and snobbish. Matthew cringed inwardly, but stood his ground.

"Uhm." Matthew cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes, actually. I am here to meet with Mr. Honda about a possible job position, as his assistant."

"Do you have an appointment?" she drawled.

"Y-yes."

The woman sighed and stood up from her slouched position in the swiveling chair, groaning as if she was being forced to do the most tasking job on the planet. "Follow me," she huffed.

Matthew nodded and trailed after the grouch of a woman silently, down the bland halls and through various offices. They came to a halt in front of a private office door surrounded by windows, all blocked with thick blinds from the inside. The receptionist knocked testily on the door and waited impatiently for a reply.

"Come in," came a low, calm voice. Matthew recognized it as the voice to which he had spoken to over the phone the previous evening; it must have been Mr. Honda.

The receptionist opened the door before stepping aside, indicating that Matthew should go in. When the Canadian hesitated for a moment, the grouch of a woman placed a stubby hand on his upper back and shoved him inside roughly, practically slamming the door shut and stopping back the way she had come. Matthew stared at the door in shock for a moment, before turning to face Mr. Honda- whom currently sat in a blue swiveling chair in front of a Mac laptop.

His hair was thick and black, slightly shaggy in the front while the back was perfectly groomed. His skin was pale and milky in contrast to his deep, chocolate brown eyes. Though his expression was passive and calm, a sense of warmth and gentleness seemed to radiate from the older man that seemed to make young Matthew feel more at ease around him.

"I am terribly sorry about Ms. Berry," he said as he shook his head. "I have asked her many times to act respectfully, but yet she seems to insist on acting like a bratty twit. I am seriously considering firing that woman."

_That was Ms. Berry? _thought Matthew. _She seemed so nice on the phone earlier today._

Matthew laughed nervously and waved a dismissive hand. "Aha, it's alright. I'm not bothered."

Mr. Honda scoffed. "Then you're the only one, Mr. Williams, because she pisses everyone else off."

The two of them chuckled before Mr. Honda instructed that Matthew sit down so that they may begin the interview. Everything went smoothly, and the butterflies in Matthew's stomach quickly but surely faded after the first few minutes. He found that Mr. Honda- or Kiku, as the man had requested Matthew call him- was an incredibly charming man. He was kind and practical, and did his best to make Matthew feel comfortable and at ease (which the Canadian appreciated very much). The two had a few things in common, not to mention both of their personalities were quite similar (both of them being quiet and fairly reserved individuals), and they shared a mutual interest in each other's writing styles.

Matthews hopes were soaring high in the sky (not literally, of course) and he almost felt certain that Kiku would hire him; he would just have to keep his fingers crossed.

When their time was up Kiku bid Matthew farewell and informed him that he would give him a call within the next two weeks. Matthew thanked him graciously before leaving the office and the building altogether, a cheek-splitting grin upon his lips as he started on his trek home- not even the nasty glare the receptionist sent his way seemed to make him falter in his contentment. He could not remember the last time he had felt so elated!

Nothing could bring him down now!

**xXx**

Matthew whistled to himself as he approached the bus station at the end of the street, looking down at his shoulder bag as he searched for his wallet so that he may pay the bus fee. Just as he managed to get a grasp around the leather pouch, he collided roughly with another figure pacing in the opposite direction as him. Both of them flew backwards and landed roughly on their behinds, grunting painfully. The blonde groaned as he reached over, bracing himself on a bench as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. He looked over to see who he had bumped into, his stomach immediately dropping when he saw who it was...

"YOU AGAIN!?"

A second blonde stood up from where he had fallen to the ground and looked over to glare daggers into Matthew after hearing his outburst.

"Oh great, it's the clumsy fool from Times Square," he hissed.

Matthew bit his lip to restrain the growl that fought to burst forth. "You are just as clumsy as I am, you dolt."

The taller man snorted. "Really? That's your best comeback? Oh, real clever, Mr. Original!"

Matthew squinted angrily. "My goal is not to appear original to the likes of _you,_ it is to get my point across. Did it make it through that thick skull of yours?"

The American growled at his counterpart before shaking his head and sticking up his nose in a huff. "I don't have time to waste my breath on you any longer, I've got things to do. See ya!"

With that the man stalked off in the direction he had originally been going in, not sparing a second glance back at Matthew- which was perfectly fine by the young Canadian. However strong the urge to grab the snobby bastard by the collar and pop him in the face was, there was no point in wasting time beating some useless stranger up and risk missing his bus; which ironically was just beginning to roll away.

"Shit!" Matthew cursed.

_There goes my good mood._

**xXx**

**End Notes: **_**Any mistakes and blah blah blah, lemme know and all that fun stuff.  
You should thank my friend, Carolyn, for getting my ass in gear- it's thanks to her I got back to working on this thing again after leaving it for so long.**_

_**Now, I don't live in New York or really anywhere near it, so if my placement or names or whatever is messed up, I am sorry to any New Yorkers reading this. I've never been out of my country (I've BARELY been out of my own Province) and so I kind of suck ass at this kind of thing.  
And I also want to apologize for my dialogue- I'm not too great at it. Something I need to work on x)**_

_**Welp! I hope you enjoyed it and don't worry if you're getting bored. I am going to try and rile things up a wee bit in the next chapter ;3  
*Evil Laugh***_

_**Review and shiz! Pretty pwease with gay smut on top? 3**_

_**Faggots and Kink Sets,**_

_**MiseryRebel**_

_**xoxoxoxox**_


	4. YOU AGAIN?

**Author's Notes: **_**Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm SO sooooooooooooooooooorryyyyyy yyyyyyyy! I am a terrible writer n I've been so busy lately; I started my first year of high school, my first semester was absolute shit, my grandmother died (no sympathy please, no one liked her, but some people still made a big deal out of it), I got a job, I had birthdays to deal with (my own included), and... BLARGH! No excuses though, I'm done. I will try harder to keep up with this- again, I'm really sorry. Especially to Carolyn; I am sorry my Muffin :c  
Anyway! ONWARDS! w**_

**Disclaimer: **_**HETALIA IS NOT MINE, NOR ARE ANY OF IT'S CHARACTERS... (but it should be .).**_

**xXx**

Soft morning light filtered through the thin curtains draped across Matthew's bedroom window, warming the tips of his toes peeking out at the end of the bed where Kumajiro slept, his pink little ears twitching as Matthew mumbled to the still air of his room. "No... don't take all the maple syrup... I still- _OOF!_"

Kumajiro nearly hit the ceiling as Matthew went tumbling out of bed, feet flying up in the air and knocking into the poor little kitten. He meowed angrily and hissed his disapproval before scampering out of the room. Matthew grumbled and whimpered, rubbing his aching nose as he groggily got up from the rough, scratchy floor. His eyes blurred with tears and left over sleep, forcing Matthew to reluctantly remove his hand from his throbbing nose and wipe it all away; once his vision was cleared he looked up to the glowing red numbers of his alarm clock resting atop of his night stand. It was a moment or two before Matthew realized...

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHH! I'M GOING TO BE LATE!" he screamed, scrambling clumsily towards the bathroom. "AND IT'S MY FIRST DAY OF WORK! This CANNOT be HAPPENING!"

Less than a week prior to this morning, Mr. Honda had been true to his word, phoning Matthew during his lunch break at work; he had a small assignment that needed to be done over the course of one month, and he wanted a fresh perspective on the subject. If Matthew did well on the assignment and proved to be a capable employee, Kiku promised he would get Matthew a permanent position at the office as a journalist. The young blonde could not believe what he was hearing- this could not be happening to him, things like this _never_ happened to _him._ But it did happen, it was happening... and he was running LATE! Why hadn't his alarm gone off when it was supposed to?

_Ah! Never mind that, I have to get going! Where the Hell are my dress shoes?_ Matthew screamed to himself. Kumajiro sat at the end of the hall, licking idly at his paws while watching humorously as Matthew hopped up and down from side to side in his room, trying to squeeze his foot into his other shoe without undoing the laces. The white cat would have snickered if he could when Matthew fell to ground, arms flailing.

"Fuck! Screw this!" Matthew cried out. He tossed his dress shoes into a small bag and slipped into a pair of worn out jogging sneakers. "Bye Kumajiro!" he called as he raced out the front door.

The Canadian was well out of breath by the time he reached the bus station; though he was glad he had managed to make it there in time, and felt lucky he had worn his running shoes, otherwise his feet would be in a world of pain right now. His dress shoes were made to make good impressions and were comfortable to wear while sitting in an office, but were definitely not made for running around a city.

_Alright! _thought Matthew as the bus pulled away from the side of the street. _Rough start, but I'll still make it on time. Not time to worry yet..._

At least he hoped so.

**xXx**

The bus ride was quick, as it was still a little while before the morning traffic rush was due- which Matthew was incredibly thankful for. The bus stopped less than a block away from the office building where Matthew would be working for the next month and preferably long after that as well. He walked down the street, weaving his way through other patrons, doing his best to avoid bumping into the people deeply invested in their phone conversations. The nearer he drew to his destination, the faster and harder his heart pounded in his chest; butterflies arose in the pit of his belly, and he felt slight perspiration on his brow. Matthew knew he had always been somewhat of a worry wart, and his nerves sometimes got the better of him, but he prayed with all his might to whatever deity that existed that he did not fuck this up. If he screwed this opportunity up, who knew how long he would have to wait to grasp at another one? He was absolutely determined to put his best foot forward, and hopefully avoid slipping on any unwanted obstacles.

Matthew came to a stop in front of the tall, windowed building; he took a deep breath in, holding it for a moment before releasing it quickly as he strode through the revolving doors. He approached the front desk, which was currently empty, and looked about curiously in search of Ms. Berry.

"Uhm, hello?" Matthew called.

"Mr. Williams?" asked a familiar voice. Matthew turned around to see Kiku Honda approaching him; he smiled at the petit black haired man and stepped forward to meet him, outstretching his hand. Mr. Honda accepted it (with some reluctance as he did not often enjoy physical contact), shaking firmly but quickly while saying, "Good to see you again. I'm glad that you made it on time- that's a good start."

Matthew smiled while thinking to himself, _Best not to mention waking up late and rushing. Let him think I'm more time efficient than I actually am..._

"Well then, follow me. I'll introduce you to your co-workers for this assignment and they can show you around the office," said Kiku, gesturing towards the hall of elevators from which he had most likely come. Matthew nodded and walked silently along behind Mr. Honda. Kiku tapped the button next to the first elevator, waiting less than a second or two for the doors to open; they stepped inside and Matthew watched as Mr. Honda inserted a key into one of the locks beside the numerous buttons.

"Security precautions," the dark haired man explained. "We don't want any unauthorized visitors accidentally stumbling into one of our offices. You'll be given your own key so that you can come here whenever need be."

"Yes sir," Matthew replied.

The elevator came to a slow, steady halt on the third floor, a gentle _ding_ going off to signify their arrival. Kiku stepped out first with Matthew following suit- employees stood aside to allow them to pass, nodding respectfully to their superior and his guest, before returning to their own assignments. Meanwhile, Matthew had to lock his jaw in place to prevent it from hitting the floor and tripping over it; he had never been in a real publishing house before. It was so much cooler than they made it out to be in the movies!  
Perhaps to other people, it was dull and boring, but for a striving journalist, it was like stepping into a dreamland.

Opposite to what most might imagine when thinking of an office, it was quite cheery inside. The walls were painted a soft cream color, with subtle floral wallpaper along the borders. The windows were large, allowing as much sunlight as possible, brightening the room further; there were no cubicles, but instead rows of open desks- private offices and conference rooms were off to the side to be used only when necessary. Overall, it seemed like a nice place to work, to Matthew anyway; he hoped that his experience here would be a good one.

Mr. Honda led Matthew over to a small cluster of desks where two people sat across from one another, typing furiously on their laptops. As Kiku and Matthew drew nearer, the one facing their direction (an average height man with slight stubble and shoulder-length wavy blonde hair) reached across the table, gesturing for his colleague to stand up with him. The second man also had blonde hair, only his was much shorter and slicked back with thick gel, his face clean and shaven as well. The two stood facing Mr. Honda and Matthew, nodding respectfully to their superior.

"Good morning, Mr. Honda," they greeted in unison.

"Good morning Mr. Belischimdt, Mr. Bonnefoy. I would like to introduce you to Matthew Williams," Kiku gestured to Matthew as he spoke, "he will be working with us over the next month, and hopefully joining us permanently if he does well."

The long haired blonde was the first to speak. "Why, it's lovely to meet you Mathieu. My name is Francis Bonnefoy- please, feel free to call me Francis," he said, his voice heavy with the French accent. Then to Matthew's great shock- and embarrassment, for that matter- Francis leaned forward, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips before planting a barely-there kiss on his knuckles.

"Uuuh..." Matthew felt his cheeks grow hot and his stomach do a little flip. "N-nice to meet y-you too, Francis."

The Frenchman winked and blew a small kiss at Matthew before stepping back in front of his desk; Kiku rolled his eyes and shook his head. Meanwhile, rougher-looking one of the two men stepped forward to greet Matthew; the Canadian had to keep himself from taking a step back. _Damn, he's intimidating..._ he thought.

"Ludwig Belischimdt," he said in a deep, heavily German accented voice while thrusting his hand forward. "I look forward to working with you, Mr. Williams."

Matthew gave a nervous smile and did his best to shake the man's hand firmly. "I look forward to working with you, too. And just call me Matthew, or Matt- formalities aren't really my thing."

Ludwig nodded while still maintaining a stern expression. "In that case, you may call me by my first name as well." The German gave Matt's hand one last shake before he, too, returned to his desk.

"Well," Kiku began, "now that we've gotten introductions out of the way I will leave you two to brief Matthew on the project." Mr. Honda turned and began to walk away, before stopping short and facing them once more. "Oh, and if Jones doesn't show up within the hour, tell him to come see me. He's been slacking lately and I don't like it."

"Yes sir," Ludwig replied, while Francis merely nodded. Ludwig turned to Matthew and gave him a small smile (Matthew hoped that meant they were off to a good start). "Well now," he said, "let's get started."

**xXx**

_Three hours later..._

Matthew was smiling gleefully to himself as he walked out of the office building alongside Ludwig and Francis on their way to get some lunch. They had been extremely busy this morning; it had not taken his two new companions very long to explain to him what the project was about- Matthew had been eager to get started after Mr. Honda had called him with the great news, and had gone over the short write-up he had received on the project. After the speedy brief, they got straight to work; Francis had made phone calls to various subjects to schedule interviews with them, while Matthew and Ludwig had done background research on their story. It may not sound ideal, but Matthew was far too excited about finally being able to do what he loved to care- the prep work was not his favorite part, but it was well worth it as he looked forward to writing up the actually story that would be (if it turned out well enough) printed on the front page of the New York Times.

"So," Matthew piped up, "where are we going to eat?"

"McDonalds," Ludwig replied. "Is that alright with you?"

Matthew felt himself turning green- after working at McDonalds for almost the same amount of time he had lived in New York, he was not overly fond of the place, however he was far too polite to contradict his new friends... Was he even allowed to call them that so soon?

"That sounds great!" Matthew lied.

Francis suddenly entered the conversation with a long sigh, and his two other blonde companions looked to him. "I don't feel like going to McDonalds, they are so greasy and fattening, I just don't want to risk ruining my sexy body," said Francis as he ran a hand up his abdomen. Ludwig rolled his eyes while Matthew turned red and smiled awkwardly. "How about I take us all how to my favorite restaurant, to celebrate Mathieu's becoming a part of our little team?"

Ludwig seemed to ponder this for a moment, before nodding his agreement; they both turned to Matthew, looking at him expectantly while waiting for his answer. "Uhm... that sounds good!" Matthew said, inwardly feeling relief at escaping a visit to one of the millions of Miccy D's in the area.

The three of them walked around to the underground tenant parking lot below the office building, all of them climbing into Francis' sleek black Fusion. They drove in relative silence for less than half an hour from the office to the restaurant; it was not an overly extravagant place, but it wasn't any McDonalds either. Once Matthew stepped out of the car he could not help but gawk a moment, before Francis looped arms with him and nearly dragged him inside, Ludwig already on the top step, waiting patiently while holding the door open for them. A waiter led them to a corner booth near the bar; he handed them each a menu as they slid into their seats. They all ordered themselves a drink before the waiter left to allow them to decide on what they may like to eat.

They sat in silence as they scanned over the menu; Matthew was the first to decide and set his menu aside while he waited for the others. He glanced over his surroundings and found the elegant but quaint restaurant to be quite cozy. There was a fireplace between two doors leading into the kitchen, its mantel decorated with pictures of what Matthew assumed to be the restaurants family owners and some employees, as well as a few awards. The walls were made of gray stone and portraits of unknown men and women hung below lowly lit orange lights. A small stage came out of the wall on the opposite side of the bar from which they sat, complete with a drum set, some microphones, and lead and bass guitars. It was a beautiful place to come and dine with just the right amount of comfort and hominess to it.

"HEY! Francis, Ludwig!" someone called, causing Matthew to jump and look in the direction that the voice was coming from. His eyes bugged and his mouth nearly tore in two as his jaw dropped low. This couldn't be happening, the voice belonged to...

"Alfred!" Francis greeted. "Glad you got my text message. Come sit."

As the man Matthew knew was now called "Alfred" came closer, he found himself shrinking farther and farther back into the corner of his seat. He could only brace himself for what was to come next.

Once Alfred was standing at the end of the table, he finally noticed that a third person sat alongside his two colleagues. He was about to introduce himself when he realized just exactly who said third person was.

"YOU AGAIN!?"

Matthew stiffened and looked up. "Hello again, _Alfred._"

**xXx**

**End Notes: **_**Doodidoodidoodoo w**__**  
**__** I shall edit another time, I do not want to keep you waiting any longer! Please enjoy and leave a review- danke lieblings **_

**P.S. **_**I changed my name to **_**IAmIt**_**- I got bored with **_**MiseryRebel :3**

_**Lunatics and Confrontations,**_

_**-IAmIt**_


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